


Vocabulary

by xiinas



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: M/M, Writer!Komaeda, photographer!hinata, will add more characters as they appear - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiinas/pseuds/xiinas
Summary: Nagito had adored literature for as long as he could remember.(Rating will change)





	Vocabulary

Nagito had adored literature for as long as he could remember. There was something about the intricacies of human language that compelled him, that attracted him to read more and discover the feelings that language could convey. Words were beautiful things, he’d concluded right away, and he’d always admired objects of beauty. Since he was little, he’d love to escape the buzz of his parents household and walk down the street to the nearby library, where the lovely librarian would always have a new and exciting read waiting for him. The woman’s name was Chisa, one of the only individuals who had chosen to pay Nagito mind in his otherwise neglectful childhood. She was cheerful and confident, but also peaceful and understanding, her personality was something reminiscent of an angel. She’d allow Nagito to sit at the back of the library near the fantasy section long after closing time, just so he could finish a chapter of whatever novel he’d decided to pull off the shelves that day. Nagito would insist that he was willing to leave to allow her to get some sleep, and say that she shouldn’t harbor any concerns about the depths of his interests in whatever he was reading for his own sake. But Chisa was kindhearted, and Nagito appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Nagito read a lot. Chisa always told him that he reminded her a lot of Matilda, a popular character of the many books written by author, Roald Dahl. Nagito had laughed at the time, telling her that there was no way a dull conscience such as his could prove as magnificent as the intellectually perfect mind of Miss Matilda Wormwood. As the days passed, however, Chisa’s sentiments proved more and more true. Nagito’s vocabulary expanded the more he read, and he’d even taken it upon himself to search through the library’s copy of Webster’s Dictionary when he came upon a word he didn’t recognize. He loved finding new words, he didn’t find it a hassle to have to look them up every time, and he enjoyed uncovering new synonyms and terms he hadn’t heard before. He felt it gave him a sense of purpose, knowledge and vocabulary were where he felt his lacking brain could be put to good use.

As he matured, it didn’t take long for Nagito to begin writing creatively. His beginning pieces started as a small series of short stories, or fragmented pieces of writing he’d think up while he had free time. He’d give personification to inanimate objects and write from the object’s perspective. He also wrote small poems, about experiences he’d have in grade school or about his dog whom he loved more than life itself. For Christmas when he was twelve, Chisa had gifted him a small laptop for him to archive the work he produced. Nagito was grateful, even amidst his babbles of “that’s much too nice of you Miss Chisa”s and “you didn’t have to”s.

Nagito revelled in his work the more he pursued it. He wrote fairy tales about mythology and fictional creatures born with magic powers, about romances and royalty, and even a cat who traveled to outer space. His imagination was always whirring, and it seemed as if the boy would write for all eternity if he could. Chisa encouraged his talent all she could, and loved when Nagito would come to her excitedly, ready to present another story. Nagito’s parents also took notice in their child’s interest, but besides a few halfhearted pats of the head and utters of “good job”, Nagito figured they weren’t too concerned with where this talent could take him. It wasn’t discouraging to him though, as long as he had Chisa, Nagito felt like the luckiest child on the planet, and nothing could take that feeling away.

Or rather, that was what he had assumed. Nagito was naive, and neglected the grim possibilities of the future.

————————

On the eve of his sixteenth birthday, Nagito’s parents left for a business trip. It was a normal occurrence, so the event wasn’t surprising, but the fact that they were leaving just before one of the milestone birthdays of his life made something twinge painfully deep inside his heart. As he waved goodbye, his mother stopped and turned, pulling something from her purse. It was a small chain, and at the bottom was a charm in the shape of a small pencil. It’s very pretty, Nagito thought, as his mother gently took his hand and pressed the necklace into his palm. She didn’t say anything, simply smiled then turned away, back down the front stoop of their home, and into the waiting limousine just beyond.

Nagito felt like crying.

————————

He had the house to himself that week, and he appreciated the quiet. His parents had a habit of inviting coworkers over to the house to host meetings and the occasional party. It was almost always loud and alive in the house, so he considered opportunities like these a luxury. It was perfect for writing in. Thus, Nagito snatched up his notebook and laptop, scurrying to his room to begin working. It was one in the afternoon on his birthday, so he quietly hummed to himself, in the tune of the happy birthday song. Briefly, he wished there was someone else there to sing to him, but he brushed the thought aside. It was a rather irrational thing to think. He had no friends besides Chisa.

A ray of bright light shown through the blinds of his window, illuminating his open notebook and shining in Nagito’s eyes as to make him glance up and out the window. The chain necklace around his neck jingled as he lifted his head, and he clutched the pencil charm between his fingers as he looked outside. A large black SUV was pulling into his driveway, which confused him. _I don’t think mother said we were expecting company._ Nagito got up and rushed downstairs, clutching the railing as he waited for the sound of the doorbell.

He opened the door to a large, burly looking man, wearing a black and white suit and tie. He wasn’t young, but not too old, probably mid forties at most. A strong feeling of intimidation washed over Nagito in the moment, but when he looked up to study the man’s expression, it fell away and turned to sympathy. The man’s expression was that of pure sorrow, and he hardly spoke clearly enough without his voice cracking when he addressed Nagito.

“I’m a co-worker of the Komaedas, are you their child?” he asked warily, and Nagito nodded nervously. A disturbing feeling was twisting in the depths of his stomach, making him feel nauseous as the man knelt down to his level. He bowed his head slightly, and Nagito could almost swear he heard the trace of a sob escape his lips. It was so heavy around him at that moment, he was confused, nervous, anxious and upset. It was as if the man’s negative energy had rubbed off on him without Nagito even being aware of whatever news he’d come to bear to him.

Wait. Oh.

_Oh._

Nagito’s lips quivered as he spoke.

“W... Where’s my mother and father...?”

The man didn’t move for a moment, simply opened his eyes and stared into the hardwood floor. Nagito’s heart was racing, the nausea and anticipation almost unbearable. The moment seemed to stretch on for minutes, hours. He wished the man would just say it already, say what he’d already predicted, what he already _knew._ The man removed his hat before speaking again.

“Their flight..” he breathed, “..hijacked. There were no survivors, I’m sorry .”

And that was the day Nagito learned that words are as dangerous as they are beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ I've had the start of this in my notepad for a bit, so I thought I'd continue it, given I don't lose motivation. I hope you all enjoyed! (next chapters are gonna be longer promise)


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